Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx
- MalaccaBoy
- Jan 15
- 4 min read

Ever since my business trip to Cairo was confirmed, I’ve been diving deep into the mysteries of the Pyramids and the Sphinx. I mean, who wouldn’t want to learn about ancient wonders that have puzzled historians for centuries? The more I read, the more my brain feels like it's trying to solve a Rubik's Cube while riding a roller coaster! I imagine standing beside these colossal structures, feeling the awe wash over me like a refreshing wave of... wait, is that a tourist taking a selfie?

But then, after all the hype and buildup, I finally see the Pyramids with my own eyes, and the feeling of awe quickly fades. I’m standing there, looking at this giant triangle, and all I can think is, “Oh… like that? Ah… okay, lo.” It’s like going to a big concert and realizing the lead singer is just a guy who forgot the lyrics! Who knew ancient wonders came with a side of disappointment? I guess I’ll just have to settle for the fact that I can now say I’ve seen the world’s largest sandcastle!
To enter the pyramid compound, you can book your tickets online and skip the queue—because who wants to stand in line when you could be sweating under the Egyptian sun instead? I strongly recommend this, as the entry point can be messier than a toddler's birthday party after too much cake. Start off at the Pyramids of Giza entry; trust me, if you start from the Sphinx, you'll be doing an uphill hike that would make a mountain goat reconsider its life choices.

The sun can be unbearable, like that one relative who insists on sharing their unsolicited life advice at every family gathering. Luckily, temperatures are cooling down in January, so it's time to put on some sunscreen and rock those shades—because looking cool is just as important as not becoming a lobster! Just remember, the toilet is available within the compound, but they do charge a minimal sum of 10 Egyptian Pounds and they usually don't carry small change. Consider it a 'pee fee'—a small price to pay for the luxury of not having to hold it while contemplating your life choices under the scorching sun!

Once you're in, you have options! You can stroll through the compounds like a majestic pharaoh or channel your inner Indiana Jones and ride a horse carriage or a camel. Just a heads up, there are no clear pricing indications for either option. So, prepare to haggle like you’re at a bazaar where the merchants have taken a crash course in the art of negotiation. Remember, don’t give in until you get a price that doesn’t make your wallet cry. Happy haggling!
If you chose to walk, be prepared for the annoyingly persistent camel owner who thinks you're his new best friend and will follow you around like a lost puppy. Seriously, it's like having a personal stalker, but with more humps! And then there are the wannabe guides popping up like mushrooms after rain, saying hello and offering to take pictures of you. I mean, do I look like a celebrity? I can barely take a selfie without accidentally capturing my double chin! It’s just a parade of awkwardness, and I find myself waving no like I’m in a bizarre version of a royal procession, trying to avoid the paparazzi while navigating the compound. Just call me the Queen of Unwanted Attention!

Perhaps getting a guide is not a bad idea, as it gives you a bit more context, background, and meaning while you're gazing at finely carved blocks of finely arranged stones—because who doesn't love a good history lesson while sweating like a popsicle left in the sun? If you're up for the adventure, you could actually purchase an additional ticket to enter the Pyramid. But from what I've gathered, it's like stepping into a sauna with narrow incline pathways that lead you to a chamber that has... absolutely nothing! Seriously, it’s like the world’s most elaborate storage closet. You could just watch it on YouTube from the comfort of your own bed, with air conditioning blasting, snacks in hand, and zero risk of heatstroke, rather than having that nasty feeling of sweat dripping down your butt crack. Now that’s what I call a pyramid scheme worth investing in! Who knew ancient Egyptians were just really into minimalism?




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